I don't need your pity, its you I want
by candy-belle
Summary: Set in a D/s version of the movie universe - After stopping an attack on sub!Clint, dom!Phil makes Clint an offer but is he making it for the right reasons and how will Clint react to such a sudden revelation? Featuring Clint & Phil with deep trust, friendship, fleeting mention of violence, Collars, New Relationship, D/s themes and kissing


"ENOUGH!"

Barton looked up in time to see Coulson hauling Anderson away from him. The senior agent look angrier than he could ever remember seeing him look before. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand Barton drew in a ragged breath and slowly got back to his feet trying to rearrange his torn t-shirt as he did.

"Don't," order Coulson shoving Anderson away and into the waiting arms of Sitwell. He glared at the junior agent before turning his head to look at Barton. For a moment there was a strange look on his face, almost pained but it was gone before anyone could register it. He took an involuntary step closer towards Barton, his eyes lingering on the split lip and bruised cheekbone. Without looking at Anderson he asked, "What happened here?"

"He wouldn't submit to me," snarled Anderson wriggling in Sitwell's grip, "He's an unclaimed sub but he wouldn't submit to me, so I was going to give him a lesson in submission that the little…"

"No sub in their right mind would ever submit to you!" yelled Barton, almost diving past Coulson to get his hands on the other man.

Coulson caught him around the chest holding him back ordering "Enough! Barton, stand down."

Barton glared at him but a single look from his handler and something clicked inside the normally insubordinate archer and he obeyed. Easing his grip on Barton's arm, Coulson nodded and gave a brief smile of thanks before looking over his shoulder at Anderson, correcting, "Being an unclaimed sub does not give you the right to touch him. It does not give you the right to manhandle him and it sure as hell does not give you the right to attempt to ra..." he drew in a snarled breath then in a tight controlled growl he ordered, "Barton got get cleaned up then come to my office." He waited for Barton to disappear before asking, "I trust you can take care of this?"

"My pleasure," replied Sitwell a disturbingly soft smile gracing his face. Coulson gave him a single nod before turning on his heel and striding away towards his office and his waiting asset.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

Coulson paused then knocked on his own door, knowing how much Barton hated to be surprised. The younger man was sprawled on the couch that filled one side of the office. He had changed his t-shirt but other than that he was pretty much the same as when he'd left the scene. He was still breathing heavily from the fight and his lip refused to stop bleeding. He dabbed at it with his thumb giving Coulson a slightly wry lopsided smile as he quipped, "Damn thing…"

"Do you have any other injuries?" asked Coulson his eyes roaming over Barton's face.

There as a moment's hesitation before Barton replied flatly," Nothing that's life threatening sir."

Coulson's left hand clenched – he seemed to do that a lot when he was around Barton – then he took a deep breath. He nodded and closed the door behind himself. As he turned the locked, he explained gently," I'm not doing this to trap you, I'm doing this so we don't get interrupted."

Barton's shoulders visibly relaxed and he murmured," Thanks." Coulson knew he hated to be trapped anywhere and the fact the senior agent had taken the time to explain his action meant a lot to him. In fact everything that Coulson did for him meant a lot, maybe too much.

Coulson was still facing the door, his back firmly to Barton, when he said, "I'm sorry I didn't protect you better. It's my fault. I should have taken better care of you and I should have…"

"With all due respect, Sir," snapped Barton frowning at Coulson's back, "You weren't the one who attacked me so I don't know why you're saying sor…"

"I'm saying sorry because I should have taken steps to ensure that men like Anderson didn't feel free to make such barbaric moves against you. And I know he's not the only one." replied Coulson, finally turning and facing Barton. He ignored the angry snarl Barton gave him and ploughed on, "I should have acted months ago when I first overheard the whispered comments and threats. I should have seen that you were properly protected. I should have done my duty as your handler and as a dom."

"You did do your duty," reported Barton, tensing at the implication that Coulson felt responsible for what had nearly happened.

"Not well enough it seems," sighed Coulson. He paused then crossing to his desk he reached into the top drawer and pulled out a standard issue black collar. He stared at it, his fingers curling a round it for a moment before he held it out to Barton saying, "Take it. We can pre...pretend that you're my sub. It should stop any more of those unwanted advances."

Barton stared at the collar in Coulson's hand and felt his heart crumple. He didn't want to pretend. He never wanted to pretend to be anything he wasn't; least of all something he wished he was more than anything in the world. He blinked once then breathed "No."

"Barton, please, I can't be with you all the time and I can't protect you if you do…"

"I can look after myself," snapped Barton glowering at his handler, "I've protected myself from worse in the past. So what, a few hotshots think they can take me down because I'm an unclaimed sub? Let's see them try. It didn't work in the circus, it didn't work when I was a gun for hire and it sure as hell won't work here. I won't pretend to be something I'm not. I won't wear a fake collar, not for you, not for anyone."

Coulson stared at him, the blue eyes roaming over his face. Barton stared back at him, anger and resentment rolling off the younger man in waves.

After several uncomfortable minutes, Coulson finally forced himself to ask, "Is it the fact you'd be faking it or the fact that you'd be wearing my collar that repulses you?"

Barton swallowed but didn't answer him. In some ways his silence hurt Coulson more than words ever could.

Slowly Coulson withdrew his hand. Setting the generic collar on the desk, he bent down and unlocked the third drawer. The third drawer that no one had access to, not even Director Fury. Reaching in he pulled out the slim black velvet box and hesitated. He bit the edge of his lip then straightening up he held the box out explaining cautiously, "I had this made when we were in Venice. I'd planned …well I dreamt of…I simply never found courage to see it through," he sighed hating himself for not being stronger.

Barton took the box frowning as Coulson spoke. Glancing up he murmured, "Venice? That was 9 months ago, Sir? I don't understand. I…"

"Open the box," ordered Coulson, sinking down into his chair. He rested his arms on the desk and waited, watching Barton's reaction as the younger man carefully opened the box.

It was a collar. But not the generic run of the mill collar. It was a beautiful, thick leather band, the leather engraved with a deep filigree pattern and hanging from the collar was a simple silver disk. The disk had 2 sets of initials engraved on it, on one side an interlinked CB and on the other a PC.

Finally tearing his eyes away from the beautiful collar Barton asked hoarsely, "Why?"

"Because I hoped one day you'd accept me," replied Coulson honestly.

"But we've never been intimate," breathed Barton, "You never even tried to…"

"We didn't need to be intimate for me to know," interrupted Coulson, explaining hoarsely, "I've never really been governed by what I find physically stimulating. But you," he gave a little almost butter laugh, "you were, are, everything I hope for and more. But you never gave any indication of wanting anything more from me than friendship and I…I didn't…"

"You don't want me," sighed Barton closing the box. He kept a tight grip on it as he continued, "I'm a screw-up. I've been nothing but a screw up all my life and despite that fact I'm damn good at what I do, the best in fact, you deserve a better sub, Sir. You deserve someone…"

"I deserve you!" snapped Coulson for once losing his cool. He took a deep breath then looking up he held Barton's gaze and confessed, "I don't want anyone else. Do you know how it felt seeing that other Dom manhandle you? To touch you? To hurt you? It made me want to kill him. I wanted to rip him apart for daring to touch you. I've never felt that with anyone else in my life." He paused then taking another calming breathe he added earnestly, "This isn't a onetime offer. You can think about it, take as long as you need but the offer is there if you want it, if you want me."

Barton kept staring at him, the all-seeing eyes fixed firmly on Coulson's face. For what seemed an eternity neither man moved then slowly Barton moved. For a moment Coulson thought the younger man was walking away but in truth he was simply moving so he could round the corner of the desk and stand directly in front of him. Holding the box out Barton took a nervous gulp then murmured, "It's your collar. If I'm gonna wear it, you have to be the one to put it on me."

Then before Coulson could speak Barton – wonderful, arrogant insubordinate Barton – sank to his knees in front of him and bared his neck.

Coulson gasped as he realised what Barton had just offered him. Licking his lower lip he took the offered box, the polished wood a familiar weight in his hand. H gripped it tightly uncertain if he was dreaming or if this was really happening.

"Why?" he breathed, "Why would you…"

"Because there's no one I trust more than I trust you," replied Barton firmly, righting his head so he could look at Coulson properly. He shuffled a little closer just enough so he could touch Coulson's ankle, "You know me, sir. I don't trust people. I don't like most people. The only person I trust and that I honestly like spending time with is you. I won't lie, I've spend far too long in far too many showers thinking about what it would be like to be your sub. But you never gave any indication of wanting to be anything more than a friend and I took that. God I gratefully took that. But if you mean this, if you are honestly offering me this collar for the right reasons and not because you feel sorry for me or obligated to, then Christ stop stalling and put the damn thing on me because believe me when I say this - I want your collar. I want you as my Dom."

Coulson swallowed hard and nodded. Shifting forward in his seat, he rested the wooden box on his right thigh and carefully took out the elegant engraved collar. It was so much softer than the regulation one. The leather was pliable and the inside padded with suede meaning it would sit gently against Barton's neck and not leave those awful red marks he had seen on less fortunate subs. He stretched the collar out, then locking eyes with Barton, he instructed softly, "Lift your chin," he waited for Barton to comply, then, leaning forward, he rested the band against Barton's throat before reaching around and doing up the buckle. Making sure the collar was lose enough to get a finger between the skin and the leather, he centred the silver disk loving the way it hung perfectly in the little hollow at the base of Barton's throat.

"Feels nice," chuckled Barton rolling his neck around testing out the collar's flexibility.

"It looks nice," replied Coulson with a soft smile. He hesitated then reached out to brush his hand over Barton's hair, barley biting back his gasp of surprise when Barton nuzzled his face against his arm like an oversized cat.

For several moments neither man said anything. They simply indulged themselves in the new sensations – Barton feeling more centered and calm than he had in years, while Coulson felt something expand in his chest something akin to relief spreading through him as Barton reacted so favourable to his collar.

"We should have done this month's ago," observed Coulson his eyes wrinkling with pleasure when Barton glared at him then nodded in agreed.

"Yeah we were both stupid."

"No," corrected Coulson, his hand trailing down to caress the side of Barton's face, "You weren't stupid. You were being cautious and I don't blame you. I should have followed my instinct instead of trying to triple think the situation I should have…"

"You're over thinking again," interrupted Barton with a wicked smirk, "Sir," he added hesitantly as an afterthought.

"You don't have to call me that," said Coulson pulling his hand back and gazing at Barton, "not when we're alone."

"What do you want me to call you then?" he asked, a little of the tensions slipping back into his shoulder.

"Well my name's Phil," replied Coulson softly.

Barton's eyes went wide with surprise and it seemed to take him a moment before he found his voice but when he did, it was vibrating with excitement as he chuckled, "Really? I get to call you... cool."

Coulson chuckled in response loving the near child-like excitement visible on Barton's face. Leaning forward he cupped Barton's face and murmured, "You should smile more often Barton it suits you." As he brushed his lips against Barton's

"Clint," moaned Barton, leaning into the kiss, "You can call me Clint."

Coulson tightened his grip around Barton's face. He knew what a privilege it was to be given permission to call Barton by his first name. Unable to stop himself, he deepened the kiss, pulling Barton closer to him, loving the way he followed his unspoken orders shifting closer until Barton was kneeling between his legs.

They continued to kiss, both of them seemingly trying to make up for lost time. It was only the dull thud of the box falling off Coulson's thigh and the ping of his computer that forced them apart. They were both breathing heavily and grinning like teenagers caught making out. As Barton levered himself up, grunting a little as his knees protested at the sudden movement, he sank back against the edge of Coulson' desk and asked, "So what happens now?"

"Now," replied Coulson slipping back into his calm unflappable public persona, "I have a meeting with the director to explain why Anderson is no longer fit for duty and you…" he let his voice trail off. He looked up at Clint and reaching over he rested his hand on the combat clad thigh soothing, "I'm not going to tell you what to do, Clint. I'm not a Dom who needs to control his sub's movement twenty four, seven. I will give you orders to keep you safe and I will punish you for taking stupid risks but other than that, nothing changes between us. Thing continue as before. I just want to take care of you. So you're free to do what you like, within reason," he added when he saw the wicked gleam in Barton's eyes, "And that does not mean shooting nerf darts at the trainees."

"Meany," chuckled Barton. But then the smile faded and he leant forward to brush a kiss over Coulson's cheek and mummed in his ear, "I'll behave, I promise I'll try."

"Thank you," replied Coulson. He let his hand linger on Barton's thigh but when his computer pinged again he sighed and pushed himself up out of the chair. He took a moment to look at Barton, feeling his heart expand with pride at the sight of his collar around the younger man's neck. He reached over and traced the edge of the leather murmuring," You look beautiful."

Barton blushed slightly and ducking his head he chuckled, "Shut up, Boss,"

Leaning in Coulson stole a quick goodbye kiss saying firmly, "I'll be back in an hour then I am taking you home and we can discuss how this arrangement is going to work."

Barton nodded and wandering over to the battered couch, he flung himself down, offering his handler and now Dom a wickedly grin, as he called seductively, "I'll be here, Sir. I'll be waiting for you."

Coulson stared at him then shook his head chuckling to himself as he left the office, knowing that for once he would be making sure the meeting took as little time as possible because nothing, but nothing was going to keep him from coming back to his sub and taking full and proper care of him.

FIN x


End file.
